Of Bluebirds
by lil-vamp
Summary: Clark ponders impossibilities. PG13ish to light R. CLex ahead. :)


The moment he was sure he was out of sight, he hit superspeed. Within a minute, he was standing in the foyer of the castle. Why here, he didn't know. He had fully intended on going to his Fortress of Solitude and camping out for the rest of his life. But, no, here he stood in the foyer of the castle staring dumb-founded as Enrique attempted to discover the reason for his late night/early morning visit. Clark couldn't get his vocal chords to work, though, so he just continued to stare, desperately hoping against hope the man could read minds. Finally the butler gave up and waved him on.

Since his feet carried him to his place, undoubtedly they would tell him the reasoning behind the visit once presented with the owner, so he went in search for his best friend. He found him dozing in front of the widescreen television as stock reports zoomed by, a crystal tumbler in hand tilting onto its side, the few drops of scotch left threatening to slosh out and spill onto his pressed wool slacks. He looked his age when he slept. Not like a thirty year old warrior trapped in a twenty-two year old body desperately trying to claim possession of the world from his demonic father, but like a normal twenty-year old merely trying to claim possession of his life, a little sad and very much alone and very much confused. 

He didn't want to wake him, not now in his few moments of peace, not even when he needed so badly to talk to someone. He had sacrificed for his best friend, and he would sacrifice again. His needs weighed very little when compared to the needs of others, especially those close to him. So instead of waking him and deluging him with the questions and doubts which raged in his mind, he settled down on the couch, sneaked the remote control way and flipped to the Cartoon Network while keeping the volume low. He oh so carefully and oh so slowly removed the tumbler from Lex's hand and placed it on the coffee table beside CEO reports, then turned all of his focus to Ren and Stimpy.

The next thing he knew, he was being gently shaken awake. He blinked his eyes open, those few seconds of confusion over strange surroundings sending him briefly into panic mode until he looked into the concerned eyes of Lex Luthor.

"Clark? What are you doing here?"

"Long story," he yawned, running his fingers through his thick, tousled dark hair.

"You shouldn't be here. Your parents will worry. It's three am."

"Wolf's hour. It's okay. They think I'm at Pete's."

"You deceived your parents so you could fall asleep on my couch while watching Space Ghost?"

"No; this is just where I ended up." He stood and stretched, pulling his arms behind him until he could feel circulation kick back in. "Excuse me I gotta ... I gotta go." 

When he returned, Lex was looking ever composed, ever ready to claim his world as he scanned for any tiny piece of financial news he may have missed during his nap, tumbler refilled Clark noticed. Clark noticed he had been drinking more lately. In fact, it was rare to see him without his companion the crystal tumbler. He had also noticed more lines at the crinkles of his eyes and more exhaustion in his eyes. A hardness to his mouth like he had to force himself to smile. He still held his shoulders and chin straight, but it seemed to take more effort. Clark noticed a lot of things.

"So, Clark, if you ended up here, would you like to tell me where you began? If I am harboring a deceptive criminal, I would like to know why."

Clark dropped his gaze to the floor as he was swamped with the realization of his purpose for being here. "It didn't go as I planned."

"Little does. If I may take a guess, tonight you planned to woo either Chloe or Lana if you were feeling a little bolder. Rather than a swooning woman of virtue in your arms, you were left with either an icy stare or the realization you were not with the one you wanted."

"Something like that. It was Chloe, not Lana. Lana is getting back together with Whitney now that he's on leave for the holidays."

"I see. Dinner and a movie then?"

"Her dad is out of town visiting his sister. Dominoes and Blockbuster. Things ... well," he could actually feel his cheeks burning as he tried to explain.

"Things heated up between you and the lovely Miss Sullivan."

"Big time. We were kissing and then she started messing with my shirt and ... stuff so I started messing with her shirt ... and stuff, cause that's what you do, right?" He was pacing by now, quick, almost angry steps. "First the kissing, then the hands. It's right there in the handbook. Isn't that how it's supposed to go?"

"As far as I know. So there you are getting to know each other ... "

"Right. Then she ... she sits back and just looks at me and, God, she is so beautiful. She really is. Just so beautiful. Cheeks flushed and all. Just beautiful. And she asks me if I want to go upstairs and I don't need a handbook to know what that means and I said yes because you're supposed to say yes. Beautiful woman says come with me and you go with her. So we get up there and we're sitting there on her bed and she has this really weird looking comforter on her bed. It's blue with all these weird looking designs in green and red and yellow. I remember thinking that's the ugliest comforter I've ever seen, then she lays back and somewhere along the way she lost her shirt and her bra and I'm thinking suddenly the comforter isn't that bad, not with her laying on it and her ... ya know," he holds his hands in front of his chest and bounces them a little, "and all right there. And she is so beautiful and she's reaching for me and we're kissing again and I'm thinking this is it, ya know. It's gonna happen. I'm gonna have sex. And that's when my stupid brain kicks in and I realize I'm gonna have sex with Chloe and I don't wanna have sex with her. I'm not gonna marry her. I love her a lot, but I know I'm not gonna marry her so now we're gonna have this weird thing between us. She's gonna be my first and I'm gonna be her second and it's gonna get messed up. How can it not get messed up? So I left."

"Do you trust her?"

"She's my best friend. One of my best friends."

"Wouldn't your first time be better with someone you love and trust then with some random person you don't really give a damn about? Sex doesn't always ruin friendships. Sometimes it is accepted as a pleasant memory."

"I don't want that with her, though, Lex." He sat down heavily on the over-plush couch and rested his head back against the cushions.

"Is it that you didn't want to ruin a friendship? Or that you didn't want to have sex with Chloe? Did you perhaps have someone else in mind?"

"Both."

"If it had been Lana instead of Chloe would you have gone through with it?"

"Sure. I mean I guess. Yea?"

"Sounds like a question to me."

"I've never really thought about it."

"Are we talking, Clark? No holds barred. Say whatever is on your mind. Nothing revealed will ever be betrayed. Is this one of those conversations?"

"You're my best bestfriend, Lex. That's why I'm here and not at home. I don't know what the hell is going on. I know why I freaked out, but ... I don't know."

"Okay." He sat down on the couch, but giving Clark room to breathe and be safe. On second thought, though, he poured two tumblers, one with scotch and one with a mix of vodka and orange juice. The second he gave to Clark before sitting down again. "You have thought about it. Often. You're a sixteen year old male virgin. That's what sixteen-year-old male virgins do. Think about sex and how to cure what is seen as a hindrance. And it is a hindrance because it's all you can think about. You have two options. A) Escape the hindrance as quickly as possible with whomever is available and willing at the moment or B) deal with the hindrance until someone comes along you truly care for. Most males ... most people go with option A. Take the easy route. I took the easy route. Quick. Seemingly painless. Fifty percent of the time it is painless. No consequences. Fifty percent of the time it is painful. You lose a friend. You lose a relationship. You gain a disease or a child because you were so quick to get it done that you did not spend time on precautions. For you, though, Option A isn't even an option. You're too nice a guy to have some random fling just to cure some horrible affliction like virginity."

"So what do I do?"

"You wait. You wait until Lana is available and unattached."

"But," he began then shook his head and sipped his drink. Lex made them for him every once in a while when things got tense. Mostly orange juice with only a touch of vodka, so it wasn't like contributing to a minor or anything. He didn't think. They were too good to give up, though, so he just let it go.

"No holds barred, Clark. Remember? Nothing leaves this room."

He let his gaze drop again and asked his screwdriver lite, "what if Lana isn't the one?"

That question, as innocently as it was delivered, grabbed Lex's attention. "Oh? Are you telling me that you have decided to move on from Lana?"

He shrugged a little and continued his conversation with his drink, a strange smile on his lips. "I'm just saying ... I've been doing some thinking. A lot of thinking really. And ... I don't know. The only time she ever acts halfway interested in me is when I'm halfway interested in someone else. Then I give up on that someone else and try to talk to her and it's like she isn't interested in me as a guy anymore. I'm just Clark Kent. The guy she tells all her troubles too."

"So if it had been Lana, then no."

"Yea," he admitted quietly.

"There's the Clark Kent confidence I know. Someone will come along, Clark. Someone you do care about and want to build a relationship with. You may not marry that person, but you will always remember and care for her. Either that or lose your virginity on your wedding night." He slowly exhaled and sipped from his tumbler before smiling again. "Do you feel better now?"

"I guess."

"Loss of confidence again. Tell me what's on your mind."

"No holds barred, right?"

"Right. Say anything you like. You will not be judged nor questioned in the least."

"I don't know what's going on, Lex. I really don't. Everything has been really mixed up in my head."

"Speak as randomly as you like."

"Things are changing. Like the way I see things and people. It's all changing. But it isn't changing. It's like I'm just sorting it all out. It's like I've always seen this painting all jumbled up and that's the way I've always understood it. Now it's like I've stepped back and the jumbled colors are really pictures and I'm trying to make sense of the pictures. Does that make sense?"

"It does. What do the pictures reveal?"

"For one that I'm tired of waiting on Lana to pick me."

"And for another thing?"

"I just look at people differently now."

"So no Lana and no Chloe. At least not sexually. Do you have someone else in mind? I'm afraid they are all I know from the high school other than assorted random classmates I see from time to time at the Talon."

"It doesn't matter, okay? It really doesn't."

"It matters, Clark. To a romantic such as you it matters a great deal. Tell me who this person is and perhaps I can share a little wisdom on how to win this person's heart."

"No, Lex. It doesn't matter. Can I get another drink? Less orange juice."

"And more vodka?" he asked, confusion in his eyes. "Of course. So, it is someone further out of reach than Lana. This will take some work. Is she in one of your classes? There should be another dance in the horizon. If not I could throw some sort of soiree. Something to celebrate the season."

"It isn't someone I can simply invite to some dance. It's not that easy. I mean at all. In fact it's impossible, so it doesn't matter."

"Clark-"

"No!" he shouted, rising to his feet. "Never mind. I have to go. Get back to Pete's."

"Who is he?" Lex asked quietly.

"You. That's why I need to go."

"Me."

"I don't go around looking at guys or anything. I really don't. I've never thought about guys like that. Never, Lex. Then I was there kissing Chloe and ... and I wanted it to be you and that freaked me out. I kept kissing her trying my damnedest to push you out of my mind and just see her. She was so beautiful, but she wasn't you and I don't know what to do with that. You're my best friend and you're six years older than me and you're a guy. It's impossible. It won't ever *ever* work, so it doesn't matter. I mean do you think I want to be in love with you? The picture is clear and all I want to do is set it on fire." He ran his hand roughly through his hair again as Lex watched him in mild shock. He shocked Lex Luthor. There's a first time for everything. "I gotta go. I'm sorry. Forget it. Just forget I said anything at all. I have to go patch up what little friendship I may have left with Chloe. I'm sorry, Lex." 

"You are in love with me, Clark?"

"I really want to go now. I don't wanna talk about this anymore. Don't make me talk about this."

"The problem, though, is we need to talk about this. Otherwise it will hinder our friendship and I do not want that to happen."

"Fine. Let's talk." Pacing again, this time the steps were faster and definitely angry. "Let's talk about how you are in love with me. In fact, you've been in love with me for as long as I realized tonight that I've been in love with you. Let's discuss china patterns, then go make love in the garden. Let's talk about how glad we are that everyone will accept us as they accept Whitney and Lana and how my father will clap me on the back and say, 'son, I am so proud you have found such an amazing man'. How your father will volunteer the first toast at our wedding. Let's talk about growing old while sitting in rocking chairs on the front porch and complaining about how rude all the young kids are, not like in our day. But see it's impossible. All of it. Because you're not in love with me."

"May I please have an opportunity to speak now?" he asked, then became quiet as he studied his hands. "Honestly, I don't know what to say. I never planned for this to happen."

"Do you think I planned for it? Do you-"

"Clark," he interrupted and the young man silenced, leaning against the far wall, face down and focus on the floor. "I plan for everything. I have been trained to see every step five steps ahead regardless of the situation and be prepared for every contingency. Not this, though."

"So, here it is. Surprise."

"The ironic thing about it, though, is I thought about it. Not often. Three times at most. I never planned for this situation because it would never happen; therefore, I didn't allow myself to indulge in the idea. But I did think about it."

"What do you mean? You thought about us?"

"Three times at most. What do you expect of me? You are a very attractive young man, Clark. We've been best friends for two years. See each other nearly every day. You are among the very few who will tell me no. Who has the balls to stand up, unblinking, to a Luthor. Not to get his name in the spotlight or to prove that he can say no, but simply because it is the right thing to do. And you see *me*, not my name. You talk to *me*, not my family. Yes, I thought about you. I never allowed anymore than a thought, though, because it is a situation that will never happen."

Clark's shoulders slumped with disappointment. "See? It's impossible. That's why I need to go."

"Give me a moment, Clark. Don't simply storm off into the night. I need a moment to think."

"Thinking won't change the impossibility of it. I'll see you later, Lex." With a deep, depressed sigh, Clark was gone.

The next day, Lana informed Lex that Clark had not been in the Talon that day. Nor had he been seen at the Torch, opened especially for Chloe during the holidays, even while school was not in session. Nor was he at the farm. Mrs. Kent said he had finished his chores early and left for the day. He seemed rather down about something. Did Lex know what was wrong? With a shake of his head, he left to find Pete. Pete had a part-time job at a small magazine shop. No sign of Clark there either and he still wasn't answering his cellphone. Finally, he decided to make the rounds again. Talon. Torch. Farm. Shop. At some point, he would turn up somewhere.

The sun was setting when Clark strolled into the Talon for a mug of hot chocolate, extra foam and extra marshmallows. He bypassed Chloe's table, their usual one, and took one towards the back instead. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk to her. He simply needed a moment to gather his thoughts. She and Clark had had a long conversation earlier that morning about the night before. Chloe was taking it all amazingly well. She agreed that it probably would have ruined their friendship and she was glad they didn't go through with it. She was smiling again, but he saw the shadows in her eyes. Soon, both girls were sitting across from him.

"You okay, Clark?" asked Chloe. "Lex has been looking everywhere for you. Have a fight or something?"

"No. Just a disagreement."

"He's been here three times," said Lana. "Must have been some disagreement. Did he try to buy you another car?"

"No. It was nothing. Really. Just a disagreement. Get anything done at the paper, Chloe?"

"I found this awesome Native American legend about aliens landing in Smallville. Cool, huh?"

"Cool, but way far fetched. I mean why would aliens come to Smallville?"

"Maybe they really like corn." 

"Clark," greeted the last voice he wanted to hear today or ever again, "I finally found you. I was beginning to get the impression that you were avoiding me."

"I was."

"You left. I asked you not to leave and you left."

"Yes, because it was the right thing to do. What were your words? That I have to balls to stand up, unblinking, to a Luthor?"

"Clark, we need to talk."

"We did talk. Now, we're done talking and it's time to move on to another subject. Who's going to see that new James Bond movie this weekend?"

"Ladies, if you would excuse us-"

"No, ladies, stay right where you are. Maybe we could all go see it, then stop by here afterwards for some apple pie."

"Clark-"

"Dammit, Lex! I don't want to talk about this! I just want to forget everything I said and you said and just move on!"

He drug a wooden chair up to the table, fully prepared to see exactly how cosmopolitan Chloe and Lana truly were. "How can you just give up? Make a statement ... such as the one you made, then simply give up and turn away without even the briefest attempt at working things out?"

"Because it is impossible."

"Maybe it isn't. Have you even considered that? Here *I* am, coming to *you*. Me, Lex Luthor. Anything is possible." 

Then Lex did a very strange thing. His eyes widened as he sat back in his chair, that same look of shock from the night before. And Clark knew exactly what had caused that reaction. He may give the impression that he could be dense at times, but in all actuality, Clark picked up on quite a bit. Usually, though, it was just easier ... simpler to let things go. It wasn't that he was deceitful. He simply wanted to know for sure. And what he knew for sure right now was Lex just realized his own actions. Lex just realized he had spent an entire day searching for someone who was not searching for him. He just realized he no longer had control over a situation and Clark had complete control. He stood so quickly his calves hit the legs of the chair, knocking it over. He scooped it up with hands that shook slightly.

"I have ... an appointment I must meet. In Metropolis. I'll talk to you later. Good bye, Clark. Ladies." He tilted his head a little in some vaguely gentleman-like gesture and practically ran out.

"Clark, go talk to him," Chloe ordered gently.

"I don't have anything to say to him."

"What was he talking?" asked Lana. "What were you talking about last night?"

"He's right, ya know. It isn't impossible. If he can make you happy, then be happy and to hell with everyone else. Go talk to him, Clark. That's all. Just talk to him."

Clark nodded slightly, but his eyes were dark. He knew either way a storm had begun to rage and that storm would either pull him from his family ... his world or pull him from his heart. It was up to him. He pushed himself from the table and stood in slow motion. The storm raged within as he left the coffee shop. Wind twisted and tore at farmhouses and rusted trucks and fields of corn with all they strength the tornadoes possessed last June. Lightning ripped through the sky like silver slashes, covering the world in its blood rain. Thunder boomed in the voices of giants. Who would be his shelter? Which would he chose? His family whom had taken him in, a stranger from a dying world crying in a tongue none had heard, clothed only in his own fear and confusion? Or his heart whom he had dislodged from a sinking tomb of gleaming metal? On one side was safety and security. On the other the truth.

By now the sky was filled with trees wrenched from the ground by their roots and reddened mud and the blackened debris of shattered homes. The sound alone drowned out the sounds of the reality which surrounded him. Couldn't Mrs. Delany see the chaos as she pushed her tiny baby across the isolated road in her pink stroller? Didn't the people know it was time to pull in the awnings and tape up the windows and board the doors? 

Clark turned another corner and everything silenced. The debris fell from the sky, forming ditches in the soft muddy ground. The rain gave way as the ominous clouds slowly attempted to part, creating a space for the sun to nest. There he stood, his solace, leaning against his car in a pose vaguely reminiscent of Jake Ryan in the ending scene of Sixteen Candles. Clark always did like that movie. A tiny smile on his lips, hands in his pockets, standing there as if he could stand there forever. Clark approached him slowly, casually as if he had all the time in the world.

"Hey," he greeted lightly.

"Hey. Ready to talk?"

Clark just shook his head. "Not really."

"No?"

Clark could feel his smile become slightly predatory, but couldn't help it. He allowed only a few more precious moments to pass. Then he kissed him. There, as his mother would say, before God and everybody, he kissed him. Suddenly impossibilities didn't seem quite so impossible.

**************************************************************************************

and over our heads

will float the bluebird,

singing of beautiful and impossible things,

of things that are lovely

and that never happened,

of things that are not

and that should be. 

~Oscar Wilde


End file.
